Warhammer: Striving to Be a Grinding Man

Chapter 202 The War of the Internet (11)

The passageway stretched on and on in the cold, psionic light. The psionic patterns along the edges of the walls pulsated at a steady frequency, like the rise and fall of a giant beast's chest—each pulsation surged from the horizon, spreading along the walls to both sides of the ship, before dissipating into the equally endless darkness behind.

Joachim von Strasser has stopped counting the days.

The timer still ticks, but the numbers have lost their meaning. Within the network, there is no day or night, no stellar spectral variations, no turbulence caused by the fluctuations of the Geller force during subspace travel. It simply extends forward continuously and uniformly. Ships navigating within it can feel themselves moving, but cannot measure the scale of that movement in any conventional way.

The signal from the Star Torch was blocked by the network wall.

The Calithis fleet, consisting of over a hundred ships, advanced in a long, winding line, tens of thousands of kilometers behind the Eternal Bulwark One. The fortress ship at the front maintained a steady speed in the cold glow of psionic energy, moving like a silent steel behemoth through the tunnels. Frigates and destroyers spread out in a loose defensive formation on the flanks of the fleet, protecting the "Unwavering Fist" in the middle of the formation.

This was a medium-sized passageway with a diameter between two and three hundred kilometers. It was wide enough for a single battleship, but for the entire fleet, it was still as narrow as a flattened blood vessel. The fleet could only advance in a single column, with the distance between them compressed to the limit.

"The status of the communication links," Joachim said, without turning around.

Rear Admiral Melbourne von Wald's voice came from the side and rear: "The electromagnetic communication array is operating at full power, but the absorption and refraction of signals by the tunnel walls are exceeding expectations. The signal clarity of Eternal Bulwark 1 ahead is normal, and communication with the rear formation can still be maintained. The signal attenuation of the frigates and destroyers at the edge of the formation is severe, and some ships briefly fell out of communication range when turning. The communication link of the navigation ship is functioning normally."

Joachim noted that Melbourne used the word "operating" instead of "keeping" when referring to the "navigation boat".

"How do navigation ships communicate?" he asked.

Melbourne retrieved a communication decoding: "The shipboard navigator uses a third eye to perceive the psionic flow on the net wall and mark the route. The Star Speaker embeds the information into the guiding patterns on the net wall in the form of psionic pulses, using the net's own psionic skeleton as the transmission medium. For ships that have not yet received training, the navigation ship will convert the net signal into a standard electromagnetic format for transmission and reception."

Joachim understood: the Calicus fleet couldn't directly access the network communications; the navigation ships were relaying information for them. It was a one-way dependency. Systematic training was needed. The Empire had the network, but it hadn't yet learned how to use it. He archived this understanding, leaving it for post-war processing.

The fleet continued its advance. After sailing for about two more days, the passageway suddenly widened.

The change was not gradual. At one point, the wall ahead seemed to be pushed aside from both sides by an unseen hand, its diameter leaping from hundreds of kilometers to the thousand-kilometer range. Joachim stood at the porthole, his mechanical eye automatically adjusting its focus. The wall had receded to the edge of the field-of-view array, and the dome was beyond the range of the naked eye. The sensor readings stabilized on one number: a diameter of 1,400 kilometers.

"Fleet, deploy into formation." His voice came from the bridge. "Frigids and destroyers, advance to surround the navigation ships; light cruisers, spread out on the flanks; capital ships, maintain mid-section depth."

Commands were relayed within the formation. The ships, suppressed for days in the narrow passageways, began to accelerate forward, reforming into standard battle formations in the cold glow of psionic energy. Their exhaust trails left parallel blue streaks in the darkness.

Melbourne's voice rang out again: "New report from the navigation ship. The Garros network fleet engaged the large reconnaissance formation of Gamo about three days ago (standard time). After disengagement, the Gamo fleet contracted and regrouped towards Gamo, and is expected to be reorganizing its forces. The report requests the Calithis fleet to expedite its journey to the rendezvous point."

Joachim waited.

Melbourne continued, "Notification: Void Shield cannot be activated within the Web Channel. The Void Shield works by deflecting attacks into the warp. Inside the Web Channel, the boundary of the warp is isolated by the Web Channel's own structure—the shield cannot open a passage to the warp."

Joachim paused for a moment. Every battle he had commanded had been built upon the protection of the Void Shield. Without the Void Shield, every hit shell and every energy beam would directly impact the ship's armor and structure. The battleship's protection would no longer depend on the power of the shield generator, but rather on the thickness of the armor and the speed of damage control.

"Damage control teams," he said, "are being strengthened across the entire fleet. The number of damage control teams on each ship has doubled. All spare damage control supplies have been retrieved from the warehouses and deployed to critical compartments."

"Yes."

Once the order was given, changes began to unfold ship by ship across the fleet. On the hangar deck of HMS Resolute Fist, damage control teams were simulating a reactor cooling pipe rupture. In the aft deck maintenance depot, another team of damage control personnel was repeatedly practicing installing temporary support structures. Deep within the engine room, engineers were repeatedly inspecting the backup cooling circuits. Similar operations were being carried out simultaneously on every ship in the formation.

"There's also a report about the Eternal Bulwark." Melbourne pulled up a summary of the technical parameters of the Eternal Bulwark I. "The report mentions that the Eternal Bulwark-class is specialized for network attack and defense, and recommends that during engagements, it approach the hull of the fortress ships and use their armor and force fields as cover."

Joachim read the summary. A mobile behemoth thirty kilometers long, with armor several times thicker than a battleship. In the Netway environment, where Void Shields couldn't be used, it was the closest thing to a "bunker."

"Notify the entire fleet: From now on, all formation advances will be based on the Eternal Bulwark-class destroyers. Subsequent formation exercises will revolve around utilizing the bastion ships as maneuvering cover." I need the fleet to practice this tactic to the point of being able to execute it without conscious thought before reaching the rendezvous point in three days. Pay attention to avoiding the Eternal Bulwark II and III behind; let them come to the front.

After the fleet reordered its course, the three Eternal Bulwark-class destroyers were positioned at the forefront, with the entire fleet following suit. The Eternal Bulwark-class destroyers were nearly 30% slower than the main battleships of the Calithis fleet, forcing the fleet to continuously reduce speed to maintain distance. Damage control drills continued over the next two days, with each ship's damage control team completing status confirmations in turn.

On the third day, the navigation ship transmitted communication again.

"Signals from multiple ships ahead—approaching. Fleet slows to three knots."

Joachim stood at the porthole, his mechanical eye locked on the road ahead. The exit was a three-way intersection—three large tunnels, each over a thousand kilometers in diameter, converged here, forming a massive, central cavity. From the left tunnel, hundreds of ships were emerging in formation.

Their silhouettes lit up one by one in the cold, psionic light—sharp bows, slender hulls, and the crescent moon emblem of the grasslands etched on their sides. The white paint gleamed a dull silver-gray in the pale aura. They coalesced into a dense formation within the hub cavity, then turned and converged on the Calithis fleet.

A holographic image of Kublai Khan unfolded in the center of the bridge. He had dark brown skin, prominent cheekbones, and an old scar worn smooth by time. He stood in the center of the image, with rapidly switching tactical panels and the outlines of ships being deployed in the background.

"Admiral Joachim von Strasser," the Khan's voice was not loud, but the last syllable of his words carried the distinctive intonation of the Chogris dialect, "The White Scar Fleet is joining the formation."

Joachim noticed that the Khan's right hand was not resting on the weapon handle like most Space Marine chapter commanders, but rather hanging naturally at his side—a sign of confidence, and a relaxed ease that comes from navigating the Web, a ease that no longer requires constant vigilance.

He then noticed a thin, silvery-white scratch on the side armor plating of a White Scar strike cruiser—almost the same color as the material of the Netway's sacred wall. It wasn't battle damage, but a scratch left from the wall brushing against it at extremely close range. The White Scar fleet had traveled far more distances in the Netway than the Calicus fleet; they were already familiar with this abyss.

Joachim returned an Aquila salute: "White Scar Fleet, please enter our guidance sequence and merge into the formation in turn. My staff will send you the tactical plan using the Eternal Bulwark-class as cover shortly."

The Khan nodded slightly and ended the communication. After the holographic image faded, the white ships had already deployed into formation on the flanks. The White Scars' ships required almost no communication coordination during deployment—the precision they maintained during turns silenced the staff. Joachim stood at the porthole, watching the white ships gradually merge into the formation. He didn't urge them on. That silence itself was an acceptance of the fact: they were entering a war they had never practiced, and their opponent was a shadow the Imperial Navy had chased for ten thousand years without ever catching up.

After the rendezvous, the identification markers of the two fleets merged into a unified cluster of blue dots on the main screen. The navigation ship then transmitted a new report: "The Galos Network Fleet ahead has established a supply depot. Weapons and ammunition are sufficient; full firepower is recommended, and ammunition conservation is not a concern. The Eternal Bulwark-class itself is also an industrial base."

Joachim read those lines twice. Every operational manual and every live-fire exercise of the Imperial Navy told him the same thing: conserve ammunition and fire within effective range. Supply lines were fragile, ammunition was limited, and every shot had to be cost-effective. At that moment, Garros established a complete supply line deep within the network and then told him in communications—there was no need to consider ammunition conservation.

The fleet continued its advance. The tunnel was widening—the navigation ship's reports were constantly updated: "The tunnel ahead has a diameter of over three thousand kilometers."

Joachim pressed the communication button: "Attention all ships, maintain the current formation spacing and advance. Eternal Bulwark-class ships continue forward, capital ships in the center, light cruisers spread out on both flanks, frigates and destroyers patrolling the perimeter. White Scar formation advances in a wedge formation on the flanks."

Pulses confirming the command were transmitted back one after another. Joachim watched as the formation markers came into position one by one, and as the blue propulsion line stretched out and the formation was set up. The order had been given; all that remained was to arrive.

The navigation ship's report was updated again: "The Garros Network Fleet and the main force of the Dark Eldar began engaging in combat twenty minutes ago, and the battle is ongoing."

The combined fleet began exchanging information, and each ship began its final preparations.

Thousands of kilometers behind the Garros fleet's advance line, the psionic glow of the network cast a pale, thin layer of light across the massive, armored plates. The Fireseed and Starfire—two Expedition-class forged arks—were moored parallel to each other along one side of the tunnel. Their thrusters, in standby mode, maintained minimum power output, their cooling hubs slowly rotating along the sides. Four Sword-class escorts maintained a loose, watchful formation around the arks.

In the Starfire's forging hall, cool white light spread along the curves of the adamantite frame. Cohen sat in the central command seat, his neural interface at the back of his head connected to the data link in the seat's base.

On the psychic focusing pedestal in the side wing of the hall, Eleanor sat in the main seat, a black ribbon obscuring her burned eye sockets, her fingers resting on the interface panel of the receiver array. Her psychic perception was connected to the channeling patterns on the walls of the sacred bone, and every piece of information from the front lines flowed continuously into her consciousness.

"Commander-in-Chief. Latest report: The main force of the Garros Network Fleet has made its first contact with the main force of the Dark Eldar on the outskirts of Gamor. The fighting is ongoing. We have suffered heavy losses, and the main force of the Gamor Fleet is still entering the battlefield. Marcus judges that the enemy is gathering all its strength in an attempt to completely annihilate us. Before the battle, our main force moved forward rapidly, taking advantage of the terrain at the three tunnel entrances. Crossfire can effectively suppress the enemy's mobility."

"Further report: Three Moon-class cruisers, nine light cruisers, and twelve frigates are being towed away from the battlefield and are converging on the Ark."

Cohen's gaze fell on the red markers that were lighting up one by one on the situation map. "Prioritize the recovery of personnel from the towed ships. Tell Marcus: the tactic of rapidly advancing the main fleet in the early stages is reliable. We have suffered heavy losses, but the enemy has also suffered heavy losses. Once the Eternal Fortress is in position, victory in the battle can be secured."

Eleanor nodded slightly. Her psionic senses extended again through the guiding patterns, then withdrew after a moment: "Understood. Eternal Bulwark One remains at the forefront of the main formation. Eternal Bulwark Two and Three maintain formation in the middle of the main formation. We are still some distance from effective engagement range."

Cohen leaned back in his chair. He paused for a moment, then spoke: "The losses to the Garros fleet were within expectations. The fleet was large enough to make the Dark Eldar believe they could annihilate us. This was part of the plan. Gamor has taken the bait."

Inside the Titan hangar of the Starfire, cold psionic light seeped through the gaps in the adamantite framework of the dome, spreading a pale, thin layer of light across the armor plates. Deep within the various hangars, dozens of Titans were undergoing pre-consecration rituals, from Emperor-class to Warhound-class, their binary hymns echoing throughout the hangar. Countless technical priests and Titan pilots, and further afield, countless apprentices, were busy at work.

The chief technical priest of the Orega Starfire was inspecting the entire hangar, his crimson robes revealing the dark luster of the adamantite mechanical structure on his right arm in the cold light. His optical lens lingered on the outline of each Titan in turn, confirming that the status lights of each machine were uniformly a dark green.

The same scene was playing out on the Spark, all awaiting the outcome of the fleet battle. Then, under cover, they would storm into Gamor. Show no mercy.

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